


and baby i can see myself in you

by princessrosberg



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Porn, Rejection, Self-Denial, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2018-10-11 16:25:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10469262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessrosberg/pseuds/princessrosberg
Summary: (or a collection of unrelated football one-shots)





	1. Harry Winks/Dele Alli

Dele can only let his eyes slowly flutter shut when he feels Harry's lips press against the side of his neck. He's still incredibly sore from the game, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to collapse into the overly soft sheets. And normally he would, he'd playfully push Harry away and not give in to his ridiculously cute puppy eyes, but he can't this time, because the way Harry is gently peppering kisses across his sensitive skin is driving him crazy.  
  
He whines softly when Harry's arms curl around him from behind, his fingers running across his warm skin. It's such a loving touch, something that Dele can never get enough of.  
  
He relaxes back against Harry, drops his head down against Harry's shoulder and let's out a soft sound of appreciation when his arms tighten slightly.  
  
"I love you," Harry whispers quietly, his hot breath tickling against Dele's skin as he presses another kiss to his neck. It warms his heart so much, hearing those three little words in such a gentle caring way. Harry kisses the side of his neck again, parts his lips and sucks on Dele's sensitive skin. It pulls a deep moan from him, makes his cock twitch in appreciation.  
  
"What do you want Del?" Harry's voice is low, a little rough as his accent pokes through which just makes Dele's cock twitch once again. He struggles to find his voice, the tiredness and lust taking over, so he lifts his hips slightly until his clothed erection nudges against Harry's warm hands.  
  
Harry let's outs a single breath, his lips curling up into a slight smile as his fingers run across the waistband of Dele's joggers. It's such a soft touch, the pads of his fingers tickling against Dele's skin, and he can feel the goosebumps running across his entire body. Harry's heart is beating so quickly against his back, almost in tandem with his own rapid ones. It offers a strange sort of comfort to him.  
  
"You was amazing out there," Harry slips his hand lower, past the waistband of Dele's joggers but stops to run his fingers up and down his naval. It makes him shiver, the touches and the praises affecting him in such wonderful ways.  
  
"And you looked absolutely beautiful."  
  
Harry wraps his fingers around his cock as he speaks, a drawn out moan passing Dele's parted lips before he can stop himself. It's slightly embarrassing, but he's so sensitive tonight and Harry's touches are only making it worse. He finally opens his eyes, tips his head back slightly so he can look up into Harry's dark brown eyes.  
  
It offers another sort of pleasure to the already immense amount, because something about the way Harry is looking at him with so much love in his eyes makes it that much better.  
  
He's caring with his movements, in the way he runs his thumb across the tip, makes sure it's slick with pre come before he ever so slowly runs his hand up and down.  
  
Dele can't help but to whine, can't help his eyelids fluttering or his teeth pulling at his bottom lip. Harry just smiles at him, keeps their gazes locked together and whispers sweet nothings into the air.  
  
It's this soft, caring side that seems to get to Dele, that turns him on in so many different ways and makes him feel like the most loved person on earth.  
  
He twitches against Harry, his thighs shaking slightly at the featherlight touches and Dele just watches his lips quirk up into a bigger smile. It’s so fucking intimate - probably the most intimate they've ever been really - and as much as he wants to come, Dele doesn't want this to end.

But he’s finding it harder and harder to hold back, because the way Harry is gently working his cock with his soft hand, how his other arm is wrapped around Dele’s waist in such a protective way, is going to send him over the edge. And _god_ that look in his eyes, the love and adoration sparkling in his dark brown eyes is just something else.

Surprisingly, that’s what does it. He bites his lip as he comes, whines at Harry who rides him through his orgasm and kisses the side of his neck with so much affection. It’s like he’s on cloud nine, the tingling pleasure spreading across every inch of his body and it’s honestly the best feeling in the fucking world. He’d happily take this over a win anyday.

They keep eye-contact the entire time, even when Harry brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks on them, even when he mumbles about how much he loves Dele, and even when Harry is gently pushing Dele towards the bathroom - their eyes still stay locked together.

“Hey, Harry?” Dele finally finds his voice for the first time in a while. He stops Harry before he’s about to climb into the shower, leans down enough to rest their foreheads together and just lightly places his hands across his hipbones.  
  
“I love you too”


	2. Robert Lewandowski/Thomas Muller

It should be nice. It should be the greatest feeling in the world, to finally have Thomas’ lips pressed against his own after  _ so long  _ of thinking about it. But it’s not. Because Thomas isn’t kissing back. He isn’t pushing Robert away either, which is even  _ worse  _ because he can practically feel the pity radiating from his body. 

And yet-

Robert can’t stop himself. There’s tears threatening to spill from his eyes and words lingering on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t pull away, can’t stop kissing Thomas and say  _ sorry.  _ He’s married - they both are - yet something is pulling him closer, some desire to  _ know  _ and  _ feel  _ and he’s threading his fingers into Thomas’ hair before he can stop himself.

Something is screaming at him to stop - maybe his mind, maybe his heart, Robert can’t really tell - but it’s like the desire his body is feeling just overpowers everything else. Because he grips Thomas’ hair tighter, pushes him flush against the wall and forces his tongue past Thomas’ lips. 

He still doesn’t kiss back, still keeps his hands awkwardly by his side - until Robert shifts his knee between his thighs and pulls the tiniest moan from his lips. It’s barely even there, but it’s enough. He rubs his knee against the spot again, and again, and again. Thomas’ hands briefly brush against his shoulder blades, like he’s about to give in and succumb to his needs, but he just pushes Robert away instead. 

It’s the most amount of response he’s had from Thomas all night, and Robert isn’t quite sure whether he’s glad about it, or would rather him continue to show no response. 

“Lewy,” if the feeling of pity wasn’t enough to give Robert the hint, Thomas’ tone of voice certainly is. He lifts his hand slightly, to stop Thomas from talking. He doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t need the apologies and the sympathy, this is on him and him only. 

“No, it’s okay, i-i’m sorry” Robert turns away before Thomas can reply, before he can see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes or his shaking lip.   
  
“Lewy I'm not angry” Thomas calls his name, in that soft voice he'd use after training or at 4am in the morning. It doesn't stop him from walking away though. And Robert is pretty sure this is the only time he's walked away from something in his life. 


	3. Adam Lallana/Jordan Henderson

He’d been driving for so long now, Adam knows, because he’d managed to drive for 3 hours, have a nap  _ and  _ wake up with Jordan still at the wheel. Adam’s still pretty tired himself, but Jordan looks even  _ more  _ tired and it hurts to see him struggling to stay awake. He gently runs his fingertips across the top of Jordan’s hand to catch his attention. Jordan just hums in response.   


“Hey, let me drive for a while, you need to rest” Adam’s voice is still thick with sleep but he’s trying to be stern, because this is  _ Jordan  _ and he’s probably the most stubborn bastard he knows. Adam can tell he wants to protest, but he catches Jordan’s gaze in the mirror for a split second and  _ yeah,  _ he’s given in.   


“Fine, but only for an hour. I don’t want you falling asleep and killing us”   


It’s silent until they reach the next services, and Jordan is still slightly reluctant to switch spots with Adam until he’s being dragged out of the driver’s seat. At least Adam feels more awake now. He adjusts the mirror slightly so he can see, pulls the chair forward so he can reach the peddles, and starts the engine up again.   


It’s not been 5 minutes, the song that was playing when they pulled off is still playing now, and Jordan is already asleep. With his head against the cold glass window and he blanket loosely wrapped around his shoulders. Adam just shakes his head, not without the trace of a soft smile though.


	4. Adam Lallana/Jordan Henderson

They’re going out for some fancy dinner - or well, it’s fancy to Jordan because he has to wear a suit - according to Adam anyway. He doesn’t really mind it, because any excuse to eat as much as he wants without being stuck to that stupid diet plan, Jordan will happily take. The only thing he doesn’t like is having to wear a tie. He hates them. Hated them when he was in high school and still hates them now at 26.

Jordan just never saw the reason why wearing a piece of coloured fabric around your neck made you instantly more sophisticated - because even  _ with  _ the tie, Jordan is hardly the definition of sophisticated.

“Jord? Are you almost done” Adam’s soft voice fills his ears as he stares at himself in the mirror. He hums back, still focused on trying to fix the stupid red tie to look somewhat presentable. The thinner part is longer than the rest and the knot is just a mess and really, why do ties exist again?

“Jordan, what on earth are you doing” He looks up from his intense gaze on his tie, meeting Adam’s brown eyes in the mirror instead. He already wants to punch Adam, because he’s got that fucking smirk across his face when he  _ knows  _ Jordan needs help. And dammit he doesn’t  _ need  _ help from his tiny adorable - but older than 2  _ fucking  _ years - teammate. Adam sighs.

“C’mere, you’ve always been awful at fixing your tie” Jordan huffs in protest, but he turns around and lets Adam fix it anyway. He’s too focused on Adam’s delicate fingers, tying the material in such a sensual way - which is weird, all he’s doing is fixing a tie but it’s _ Adam  _ and he makes  _ everything  _ look sensual.

“There,” Adam smiles up at him, smooths it out against his chest and  _ even  _ buttons up Jordan’s blazer - which is probably even more embarrassing than the tie thing. Jordan’s not  _ that  _ incompetent. “Y’know you scrub up pretty well,  _ captain” _

Adam winks at him, fucking  _ winks,  _ and then turns around to leave Jordan to his thoughts. His lips twitch up slightly; he can’t  _ wait  _ to get Adam back to his room later. 


	5. Marco Reus/Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang

"I knew I'd find you here," the voice draws Auba out of his dazed state, his eyes refocusing on the skyline ahead. It makes him remember he's outside, that he's still shivering from the cold breeze and that he should be back inside - and probably asleep since it's almost 2am.

He doesn't turn to look at Marco though, keeps his eyes locked on the bright lights of the city, focuses on the occasional sound of traffic below him.

"Auba," Marco's voice is soft - softer than it usually is - as he sits down beside Auba. The material of Marco's hoodie brushes against his bare skin, their legs dangle dangerously over the edge, yet neither seem to care.

Auba doesn't speak for a while, nor does Marco, they enjoy the silence despite the thick air of unanswered questions lingering around them. Until Marco moves slightly, presses his side even closer to Auba and rests his hand against his knee.

It feels warm - too warm really - because his skin is warm, his joggers are covering his legs and yet the touch from Marco is almost boiling hot. He wants to push it away, tell Marco to leave him alone for just a few more moments, but he can't bare to see the sadness in his eyes.

"Auba you can't keep running from this," Marco says, his voice still soft but full of more certainty. "You can't keep running from me."

He's right, of course he's right. Even if Auba wants to run and run and avoid talking about this, he knows he can't - not if he wants to keep Marco.

It's just too hard.

"I know, but i don't know what else to do," Auba barely recognises his own voice it's that weak, full of sadness and confusion and nothing like his usual happiness. "I just don't want to lose you"

Auba wills himself not to cry, not to embarrass himself in front of Marco but he just can't help it. He's already let his walls down, let Marco into every aspect of his life - good and bad - so really, this is nothing compared to the other sides he's seen.

He turns slightly, just enough to look at Marco's face before the first tear falls. Auba doesn't bother to brush it away though, just looks into Marco's eyes and waits for him to respond.

He looks as broken as Auba feels, his soft blue eyes full of hurt and hatred and that just makes him want to cry more, to lean forward and kiss Marco so he can forget all this.

They can't though, not this time.

"Pierre," that's what does it, just the soft whisper of his name and the gentle touch of Marco's hand. Auba throws his arms around Marco, burries his head against the material of his hoodie and just sobs everything out.

He sounds pathetic, crying so loudly against Marco on the roof of their hotel at 2am in the morning. But Marco doesn't care, doesn't pull away and just lets Auba cry and cry and cry.

Its forever until they both compose themselves enough to speak. Marco keeps his arm around Auba, holds him tight against the side of his body and let's Auba rest his head against his shoulder.

"Talk to me Auba, what's going on?" Marco's voice is back to normal now, there's no anger in it, no sadness or annoyance and that somehow helps Auba relax a lot more.

"I can't-what would they think Marco? How-how am i supposed to tell them?"

"You don't have to Auba, but you either tell them or I'm gone because i cant keep sneaking around anymore" He sounds so desperate again, and it fucking breaks Auba, but it's true, he can't come out and tell his teammates - tell the whole world - that he's shagging his best friend. It would ruin his career - both of their careers - and doing that would absolutely break him. Even more than losing Marco.

"Marco, you know why we can't it-" He's stopped when Marco leans forward to kiss him. It's not a nice kiss, he can feel Marco's lip shaking slightly, feel the tears dripping onto his cheeks and mixing with his own fresh ones.

And then Marco pulls away, mumbles something that Auba can't quite hear before he pulls himself to his feet and walks away. Auba doesn't follow him, there's no point really, he can't fix something that's already so broken.

He wonders if it's all worth it, if it'll ever be worth it. Even though he already knows the answer.


	6. Roberto Firmino/Philippe Coutinho

He knew it would be hard the minute he stepped on the plane to head to the training camp. It had been easy at home, with the distraction of the games and his gorgeous family, of Jordan taking him out round Liverpool. But now Roberto is left with only his heart and those terrible raw emotions. 

It's hard, seeing that sweet smile that brought him in all those years ago and knowing what he did to them. What he did to Roberto. 

He can already feel the hurt and anger bubbling up.

Philippe is sat opposite him from the table. Tite thought it would be good to get the team out for a drink, to let them catch up and form those bonds again after months apart. Roberto wanted to say no but he'd insisted.

So here he is, opposite the one person he wanted to avoid trying not to punch his stupidly pretty face. 

He laughs at something Neymar tells him, leans into his touch and smiles that beautiful smile he'd only give Roberto. That's what does it, he just can't take seeing Philippe act like nothing has ever changed, like he hadn't broke his fucking heart. 

He pushes himself away from the table and gathers his bag without a single word. The cool air outside feels nice, all that pent up anger and frustration seems to wash away for a moment when the breeze brushes across his cheeks. Until he turns around to see Philippe had followed him out.

"What do you want?" Roberto says, the anger clearly evident in his voice. He doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want anything to do with Philippe anymore. They had something neither of them had experienced with anyone else, and if Philippe was willing to throw that away in favour of a different club, Roberto wasn't going to waste his time. 

"To talk. What's wrong?" He snaps after that. 

"What's wrong? What the fuck do you think is wrong Phil? You left me and you expect me to just act like none of this fucking happened!" Roberto shouts back, his fists clenching around Philippe's dress shirt. He pushes him back until he's pressed against the brick wall and glares down at him. 

Philippe struggles against him, but they both know it doesn't work. It never worked. 

"You lied to me! You promised you wouldn't leave, that Liverpool meant more to you, that i meant more to you." Philippe doesn't say anything, can't say anything, and that slight second of silence is enough for him to give in. He'd wanted to do this from the very moment he met Philippe, and maybe now isn't the right time, but it could be the only time. 

Roberto smashes their lips together, let's go of Philippe's shirt to grab at his hips and push himself as close as possible. He bites down on Philippe's lip until he makes a noise of discomfort to press his tongue into his mouth. Philippe finally fights back, roughly grabbing at Roberto's hair and banging their teeth together in desperation.

Roberto can taste the blood on his tongue, and it's surprisingly not too unpleasant. When Philippe bites back, Roberto has to pull away. 

Neither of them say anything, just stare at each other with blood stained lips and flushed cheeks. Philippe pushes him away, stops for a moment like he wants to say something. Roberto grabs his hand before he can leave and slams him back against the wall. 

"You're not going anywhere."


End file.
